


Sacrifice

by SamuelSeabury



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Emotions in General TBH, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuelSeabury/pseuds/SamuelSeabury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“John…” Alexander said at last, his voice no more than a whisper.</p><p>He didn’t respond.</p><p>“John Laurens.” Alexander grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare directly at him. “Why did you do it?”</p><p>A soft snort escaped him before he could contain it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

“Laurens…”

The door slammed shut behind John as Alexander ushered him into the tiny cot his friend called a home. A laugh was beginning to bubble in his throat, the absurdity of the situation clouding his mind. It died down as he caught sight of the worried look deepening on Alexander’s face at his sudden outburst.

“This doesn’t seem like the most humorous situation,” Alexander muttered lowly, though John could see how soft his gaze was.

A hand was pushing John back, hesitant and wary, as if any movement would send excruciating pain throughout his body. When the back of his thighs hit the edge of Alexander’s desk, he sank down and let the exhaustion settle for the first time since the skirmish, thankful to be off of his feet. Alexander was on him in an instant, finger fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“You sure do know how to treat a woman,” John joked.

Alexander didn’t look amused.

John could do nothing but sit there as Alexander pushed his shirt down, careful and slow. He grimaced at the feeling of his friend’s finger running lightly over the wound in his shoulder, though the pain wasn’t a bother to him. Alexander’s eyes were grazing over his figure for more injuries, the horror and fear that had taken over his features now being replaced with confusion and disapproval.

“God, Laurens…”

“Don’t, Alexander,” John said, watching as he quickly shut it (John was the only man with that sort of power over him) and pursed his lips together.  
There was a tension in the air that John could have cut with a knife, and he felt as if he were suffocating because of it. Alexander was still in front of him, pressing a clean cloth to the bullet hole in hopes of stopping the bleeding. He was close enough that his warm breath was creeping down John’s neck, and John had to suppress the shiver that rose at the feeling.

“You are a fool, John Laurens.”

“I’m sure we were both already aware of that.”

A mere hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Alexander’s mouth, but it was enough for John.

When Alexander moved away from him, rummaging through cupboards to search for a metal tin that he pulled out a few moments later, John felt as if there was an absence, though his friend was no more than five feet away. He scolded himself for acting like a lovesick maiden, choosing to keep himself occupied with the wooden floor instead of his friend

Alexander was back at his side a second later, pulling the desk chair over with his foot and setting the box down in his lap. It took Alexander some time to find the supplies he needed, and John simply watched him as he worked, quietly admiring the man before him. 

“It’s not that bad,” John told him after a moment. “You don’t need to fuss over it like this.”

Alexander let out a dry laugh, sarcastic and cold, as he said, “I think I should be the judge of that.”

“I have medical training, Alexander. I know how to take care of a wound, and a bullet is nothing compared to the things I’ve endured in this war. I can treat it myself.”

“You’ve had worse?” Alexander responded quickly, head snapping up to glare at John. All he could do in return was lower his gaze and bite his lip.

“It’s not… that bad,” John said weakly.

Alexander sighed.

They didn’t speak again during the procedure. John ground his teeth together as Alexander did his best to stitch up the wound, and when the man sent him a questioning glance to silently ask about the pain, John only gave him a shaky smile and a nod despite the agony that was tearing through him with every little movement. Worry was already prominent on Alexander’s face once more, and he didn’t want to see that expression escalate more than it already had.

As soon as he was finished, Alexander set aside the metal medical tin and took one more inspection of his injury before deeming it safe enough to leave alone until the doctor returned to the camp. John could no longer stand to look at his friend, dreading the conversation that he knew was about to happen.

John laughed lightly, rolling his shoulder slowly and telling Alexander, “That never gets an easier. I swear it burns more every time I have to have it done.”

He was met with silence.

“John…” Alexander said at last, his voice no more than a whisper.

He didn’t respond.

“John Laurens.” Alexander grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare directly at him. “Why did you do it?”

A soft snort escaped him before he could contain it.

“Why? The man was going to shoot you, Hamilton. I wasn’t just going to stand around and watch him take your life.”

“So you would rather give up your own?”

“I’m alive, Alexander. I haven’t done anything. You’re speaking as if I’m on my deathbed.”

“You may as well have been,” Alexander told him in a rising tone, hoping to catch his attention and get his message across, “And you’re damn lucky I don’t put you out myself. Can you imagine how much worse it would have been to watch you die? I could never live with myself.”

“So you must understand me.”

Alexander, who could speak for hours in given the opportunity, watched John silently, rendered speechless.

“I wanted to show you, Alexander, through actions rather than words, how much I love you.” John had to take a breath. The decision to repeat Alexander’s words to him (Of what he had always assumed to be a joke, imagining Alexander laughing to himself at his desk as he wrote. John was stone-faced now.) was beginning to weigh down his chest with regret. He waited for the disgust to appear on Alexander’s face before he continued, but it never showed. “That’s what love is all about. Sacrifice. And I’d sacrifice anything for you. You have a future, Alexander, which will burn brighter than the sun at high noon. You have the passion to do great things with the country we’re creating, and to help this country prosper. I can’t take that away from you or anyone else. Once the war is over, you will rise to greater things. You need to be alive for that. The revolution needs you, and soon the country will too. Where would Washington be without his right hand man? Where would Lafayette be without his petite lion? You’re too important, Alexander.

Me? I’m just John Laurens. In 200 years, no one will remember my name. I’m just a pawn in a game surrounded by bishops and knights. I’m not important. Not to the revolution and not to the country. It’s a miracle I’ve survived this long.”

For a long, silent moment, there was nothing. Then John found his heart stopping as Alexander stood and moved forward, placing one hand on the desk by John’s thigh, the other coming up to stroke John’s cheek just beneath his eye, so light it almost tickled.

His breath hitched in his throat. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

“You have the same passion I have, my dear Laurens.” The reaction hadn’t been expected, and John’s breath stuttered again as Alexander pressed the tip of his nose against his own, their gaze so intimate that John was sure he was staring directly into his soul. “You cannot keep speaking of yourself in this manner, as if you’re ready to roll over in defeat like a dog. As if you are simply waiting for your death. You cannot keep risking your life every chance you get, sacrifice or not. This is the second injury in this shoulder alone. 

John… this country needs you more than you think. No one else will stand against slavery like you. You fight for your beliefs and you won’t waver simply because someone disagrees with you. That’s what this country needs. Just imagine… you and I against the world, like it is now and how it should be. We could do amazing things together, but I need you with me. You need to be at my side. I couldn’t do it without you.”

John forced a smile. “I’m sure you could manage.”

The air cracked with electricity, and suddenly Alexander was much closer than John remembered him, lips so close that the slightest movement could bring them together.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

With his arms around Alexander’s waist, the other man still in the same position, John realized as the pain in his shoulder seemed to fade that no other feeling, not pain or heat or cold or even a gentle caress, would ever come close to giving him the same sensation he received when kissing Alexander Hamilton.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this a while ago, but I hated it so I deleted it. After some revisions, I think I can stand it enough to post it again without deleting it. I'm sorry if it's terrible, but this is my first fanfiction I've written for this fandom. (Also: I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.)
> 
> Anyway... Hit up my Tumblr @jeffersonwatchyourtone if you want to scream at me about headcanons and stuff. Honestly... Please do. I am very lonely.


End file.
